


seen.

by avatraang



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, I wrote this shit HELLA last minute, Tokka Week 2020, but oh well, it is what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatraang/pseuds/avatraang
Summary: Toph stills. “You did this for my baby?” Her voice is a whisper.Swallowing, Sokka nods. “So that they’ll have something to remember us by. So they’ll know how we felt.”[A gift of Sokka’s, to Lin. Traced from the moment of creation, to the moment of relinquishment. Oneshot. Written for Tokka Week 2020, Day 4: Vision, Art.]
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Lin Beifong & Sokka, Toph Beifong/Sokka
Comments: 19
Kudos: 181





	seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Tokka Week 2020, Day 4: Vision, Art. I originally wasn’t gonna write a fic for today, BUT @lovelyrugbee over on tumblr published some BEAUTIFUL tokka art for day four of tokka week, and I was inspired. Pleaseeee go to her tumblr and check it! out My fic has nothing directly to do with her art, but it was just so beautiful that it moved my shipper heart to submit my own piece for today, lmao. 
> 
> Due to this being written so last minute, this fic is not beta’d by @CameraLux(TinCanTelephone)... or anyone at all. So if you see any mistakes, don’t go blaming it on her because it’s all on me xD
> 
> I used the prompt “Art” heavily for this fic, but the last few scenes could definitely include the prompt “Vision” as well. I’ll leave it up to interpretation! The Toph/Sokka interactions are not very heavy in this fic… but it’s definitely still got that Tokka goodness we love, lol. You'll see what I mean. Make sure to check out my tumblr if you like this fic. I’m @avatraang.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy.

> _She never looked nice._ _  
> __She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice;_ _  
> __It was supposed to make you feel something._

- **Rainbow Rowell.**

* * *

“What is that?” Zuko asks Sokka one day, leaning over his desk to peek at the swell of color Sokka is adding detail to.

“Nothing.” Sokka’s response is quick; he tucks the sheet of paper away, where prying eyes can’t find it. But it’s too late; Zuko’s good eye had settled on the paper as a whole, and he registers the subject of Sokka’s musings in one quick second. “It looks just like her.” He smiles, just a bit.

Sokka looks up at Zuko. Sunlight pools into the room; Zuko’s palace is very open. “You think so? I think she looks too nice.” He hesitantly brings out the paper, allowing Zuko to look at it again. Toph stares back at him, eyes closed, laying down on what he thinks must be a rock. Her hair is loose, fanned around her. He sees her small nose, sharp jawline, plump cheeks, and the bangs that fall in wisps on top of her forehead. The drawing is definitely Toph, right down to the meteorite bracelet that Sokka’s drawn on her arm. She’s smiling up at them. She looks happy.

“What do you mean?” Zuko frowns. “Why is that bad?”

Sokka shakes his head, “It’s just… I don’t know. It looks like Toph, but it doesn’t _feel_ like Toph.”

Zuko pauses for a moment, digesting his friend’s words. He adjusts the top knot on his head. Glancing back down at the drawing, he understands what Sokka is trying to say. “Hm. I see your point. Maybe it’s the smile? Toph doesn’t really smile, she more… smirks? Or smiles at your pain? I don’t know. It’s not ever really a princess-y smile like the one in the drawing, though.” Zuko pauses, “I don’t know if that helped. Sorry.”

Sokka shakes his head, “No, yeah, I… I think you’re right. That might be it. Thanks, man.” He takes out a blank sheet of paper, preparing to start all over again.

“Why…” Zuko hesitates. “Why are you drawing her, anyway?”

All at once, Sokka stills. Then he bursts into action, rising from his chair. “I think Aang was looking for you,” Sokka responds, rapid fire, while motioning towards the door. “It seemed pretty urgent. Probably some Fire Nation-Avatar stuff, right? You better go look for him before the world falls apart!” He practically pushes Zuko out of the room.

Zuko sighs, looking back at Sokka, who’s made his way back to his desk. _Whatever,_ Zuko thinks. _Some things are better left a mystery._

* * *

Ty Lee’s head pops out from the tree under which Sokka is sitting. She’s always loved the palace gardens. She’s dangling from a branch, a happy smile on her face as she takes a glance at what he’s drawing. “What is that?” Ty Lee asks. Sokka looks up at her. He’s got a frustrated look on his face, a paintbrush clamped between his mouth. With a tired sigh, he takes said paintbrush from between his teeth and pouts.

“You can’t tell?” Sokka groans. “This is awful.”

Ty Lee’s eyes narrow. “Hold on.” She says, and swings herself back up into the tree. She disappears from Sokka’s sight, but a second later she reemerges, landing on the balls of her feet, the grass cushioning her touchdown. “Okay, _now_ I can see better.” Sitting down next to Sokka, Ty Lee inspects the drawing. “Oh! That’s Toph!” She proclaims, looking at Sokka’s masterpiece. Ty Lee takes in Sokka’s handiwork. Toph is lying on a rock, her hands behind her head, hair loose around her. Toph’s eyes are closed. Ty Lee thinks she looks very relaxed. There’s a playful smirk on her lips, as if she’s imagining a fight that she’s (obviously) winning. Tilting her head, Ty Lee takes note of the detail Sokka’s put into the drawing. The light scar Toph has on her neck is visible in the drawing, and Toph’s feet look just the right amount of dirty. “It’s so good!” Ty Lee gushes. “You’re so talented!”

Sokka sighs. “Thanks.”

She pinches her lips, confused. Sokka’s never sounded so down about being complimented. “What’s wrong?” Ty Lee asks, glancing back at the painting. She tries to find an imperfection in it. Except for Toph’s nose being slightly crooked, and her left ear being a little wonky, Ty Lee can’t find any.

“It looks like Toph, but it doesn’t _feel_ like Toph.” Sokka shakes his head, “Yesterday, Zuko said that maybe it was because I had her smiling and not smirking, but I fixed that, and it still doesn’t feel right.”

“Hm.” Ty Lee taps the side of her left cheek. Inspecting the drawing, a long silence settles, before she brightens. “Oh!” Triumphant, she taps the earth that the drawn version of Toph is lying on. “She’s not earthbending. Earthbending is _integral_ to Toph’s aura.” Ty Lee’s tone is matter-of-fact. 

Sokka looks as Ty Lee, impressed. “Huh. I would’ve never thought of that. Thanks, Ty Lee.” Standing, Sokka curls up the sheet of paper, ready to head back to the palace, where everyone else is. _Everyone else._ The thought of everyone in one place makes Ty Lee happy; they should have reunions more often.

“Of course!” She smiles up at him. “Why are you drawing Toph, anyway?”

His eyes narrow. “That’s classified.” The sun is blinding behind him.

If Ty Lee were still fourteen, she’d launch into incessant teasing about how he must have a huge crush on Toph to be drawing her so intently. _After all, paintings last longer._ But Ty Lee has aged gracefully, so instead, she simply smiles. “Okay. Well, if you need any more help, just come find me!” Waving, Ty Lee watches Sokka go.

His aura has always been similar to Toph’s. Maybe that’s why him drawing her doesn’t surprise Ty Lee too much.

* * *

  
  


Sokka’s tongue is sticking out of his mouth, back hunched over a piece of paper. Aang is chasing Kya around the room when he notices how focussed his brother-in-law looks. Curious, Aang calls out to Sokka. “What is that?”

Turning, Sokka smiles as Kya barrels into him. She’s about to be four and always wants to play chase. “Hello, little polar dog.” Placing her into his lap, Kya inspects what Sokka’s been drawing. 

“Aunt!” Kya proclaims, pointing at the sheet of paper in front of them.

Aang walks over to them; he’s there in two long strides (curse his height). “Oh.” Aang’s eyes widen. “You’ve gotten way better at art, Sokka.” His eyes skate over the drawing of Toph.

“Thanks.” Sokka deadpans. He stares at the drawing with what Aang registers as contempt.

Taking Kya off her uncle’s lap, Aang places her on his hip. “What’s wrong?” His eyebrows furrow. Kya starts to play with Aang’s necklace.

“I’ve already said this multiple times.” Sokka laments, staring at his art. “Yesterday, and the day before that. I keep saying that it looks like Toph, but the drawing doesn’t _feel_ like Toph. I still don’t know what’s missing.” He gives his drawing a forlorn look.

A breeze blows through the room, carried in by an open window. Zuko’s palace is huge, so Aang is grateful it’s so airy. Looking at Sokka’s drawing, he inspects it carefully. Toph’s right hand is under her head, with her hair loose. Her left hand is up, just to the left of her face, and rocks dance across her fingertips. Her eyes are closed; she’s smirking playfully. Aang can feel the emotion Sokka’s put in his drawing. Kya is staring, too, as intently as a three-year-old can. 

“When you look at this drawing, what do you feel?” Kya pulls at Aang’s necklace, hard. Aang places her back onto the floor. “Art is supposed to make you feel something. What do you feel when you look at it?”

Sokka takes in Toph’s closed eyes, the lazy way he’s drawn her earthbending. He takes in the smirk, and every detail he could think to add to his art, and still Sokka doesn’t understand. “I feel the same thing I always feel when I look at Toph.”

“Which is what?” Aang places Kya on the floor, watching her wander off towards a bookshelf.

Sokka blushes. “I… I…” He rolls his eyes, “What does this have to do with anything?”

Aang glares at his brother. “Are you serious? Art is the artist’s emotions, personified. Toph is your muse; hence why you drew her. You feel something so strongly for her that it inspired you to turn her into your art.” Aang watches Momo fly into the room. He heads straight towards Kya, who giggles happily at the flying lemur. “When you think of Toph, what do you feel? And when you look at your art, what’s missing from that feeling?”

Sokka puckers his lips, deep in thought. Kya wanders back over, Momo in tow. Climbing back onto her uncle’s lap, Kya takes another look at his drawing.

“Where you?” Kya asks, suddenly. She’s pointing from the drawing, to Sokka.

Sokka frowns at his niece. “What do you mean?”

All at once, Aang understands. Ruffling his daughter’s hair, he says, as if all Sokka’s missed was adding an extra hair to Toph’s eyebrows: “She’s alone.”

Understanding dawns onto Sokka’s face. “What’s missing… What do I feel…” his sentence trails off, lost in the thoughts of his mind. Grabbing an empty sheet of paper, much bigger than the first, Sokka wordlessly begins to draw again.

With a roll of his eyes, Aang hauls Kya and Momo out of the room, going to look for the rest of their family.

* * *

  
  


“What is that?” Toph asks, a day after Aang and Sokka’s conversation. He’s sitting in one of Zuko’s courtyards. Toph’s very pregnant belly sticks out in front of her, her feet are swollen. Sokka shyly unfurls the sheet of paper and holds it out to her. “Hello?” Toph tries again, “I asked you what you were holding.”

Sokka starts. _Oops._ “Shit, my bad, Toph.” He pulls her down next to him. “It’s a drawing. For you.”

“For me.” Toph’s tone is dry.

“Yeah.” He smiles gently.

“Thanks, I love it.” Toph deadpans. She looks annoyed, one hand resting on her belly, the other planted firmly on the ground as she leans against him.

Sokka rolls his eyes, “Okay, so not _for you_ for you, but… It’s for you to give to the baby.” He blushes. “So that you can show it what we looked like when you were younger.”

He sees a light pink grace her cheeks. Yet Toph’s tone is teasing. “Aren’t there pictures of us in the history books?”

He scowls at her. The sun is setting around them. “Yeah, but not… not like this.” He glances down at his art. “The stuff in the history books just tells you how we looked. This… this tells you how we felt.”

Toph stills. “You did this for my baby?” Her voice is a whisper.

Swallowing, Sokka nods. “So that they’ll have something to remember us by. So they’ll know how we felt.” He watches, incredulous, as tears pool in her eyes. 

“Is this what you’ve been working on the past few days?” She sniffles; he can tell she’s pissed at herself for crying. “Zuko, Ty Lee, and Aang were talking about it.”

“Please don’t cry.” Sokka’s eyes go wide, “I don’t know what to do when you cry, holy spirits I didn’t mean to make you cry, please I’m so sorry I’ll do anything oh no please - _OW!”_ Sokka rubs the spot that Toph’s just punched.

“Shut up.” She gives him a wet laugh. “I’m crying because I’m _touched,_ dumbass.” Resting her head on his shoulder, Toph lets Sokka wipe away a few stray tears. “My kid will remember you regardless of a drawing, Sokka. But thank you.” Toph closes her eyes. After a moment, she hesitantly asks, “What… What does it look like? The drawing? What does it make you feel?”

Kissing the top of Toph’s head, Sokka gazes at his art. Toph has never needed him, but when he thinks of Toph, he thinks of them, of their future, of being together. His vision is brighter when he’s next to her. Toph makes him feel love, makes him feel hope and peace, makes him feel _seen;_ he knows he makes her feel exactly the same, too, even though she’d never say it. And so, as he launches into his explanation, Sokka thinks he got his drawing exactly right this time.

* * *

Bumi knocks on Lin’s door with confidence. “Come in.” Lin says, only looking up when she registers who it is. “Oh.” She frowns. “Bumi. What’s up?” A slight breeze blows through her open window.

He’s got a shifty look about him, but then, they’ve all been going through it the past few years. With uncle Aang’s passing, and now… Lin shakes her head, pushing away her pain and coming back to the present just as Bumi speaks. “You got a moment?”

“I said what’s up, didn’t I?” Lin dryly shoots back, pushing aside some paperwork. 

Bumi rolls his eyes, “I forget how much of a smartass you Beifongs can be.” Sitting across from her, he rummages through his bag before pulling out an old, weathered piece of paper. “I just got in from the Southern Water Tribe. I was helping my mom sort through Uncle Sokka’s things.”

Lin feels another pang in her chest, this time at the mention of her father figure. Swallowing, she fights back the fresh grief that threatens to overrun her. “Oh yeah?” She nods towards the paper. “What is that?”

“I brought you something.” He pushes the paper over to her; it’s tied by an old, faded string. “My mom said that it was something our uncle drew. Considering we don’t know where the hell your mom is… Well, my mom wanted you to have it. She said that she heard my dad and uncle Zuko talking about it once. Said that uncle Sokka had made it for aunt Toph to give to you.”

Lin pulls the paper towards her. “What, did he never give it to her or something?”

Bumi shakes her head, “Mom says she was pretty sure uncle Sokka did give it to your mom. She doesn’t know how it landed back in his possessions. But he worked pretty hard on it, and mom is positive it was supposed to be given to you. He’d want you to have it, for sure.” Lin pulls on the string, and Bumi watches it come loose. Gently, Lin unfurls the sheet of paper. Her breath catches.

“I…” She clears her throat. “I’ve never seen them look this young.”

“Yeah.” Bumi agrees. “It was a nice surprise for me, too.” Raising a brow, he notices the slight tremble to Lin’s hands. “You good?”

Lin doesn’t respond. She takes in the drawing with surprising softness. Under a tree sits her mother and her uncle. He’s got an arm thrown around her, head resting on top of hers. Her mom’s own head is on his shoulder. Her mother’s eyes are open, gazing at what seems to be everything and nothing, atll at once. One hand is lazily bending little rock figures, whom her uncle had drawn as absolutely destroying each other. Uncle Sokka’s smiling, and Lin can _feel_ the peace radiating off of the younger version of her… her parents. It hits her in the face like one of Kya’s tsunamis. Her mother’s feet are dirty, that bracelet she always wore coiled firmly around her arm, and the hand that isn’t being used for bending is resting on uncle Sokka’s chest. Uncle Sokka’s other hand is on top of her mom’s. Lin can see the little scar on her mom’s neck. It looks fresher there, not aged and faded like how Lin remembers. Uncle Sokka’s wolf tail looks fuller. They look young, they look peaceful, they look like…

“They really loved each other.” Bumi says. It draws Lin back to the present.

Reaching up to pat her face, she’s surprised to find that she is crying. Wiping away the tears, her vision goes from blurred, to sharp. “I was thinking the same thing. Our uncle was a good artist.” She sighs.

Bumi smiles. “He had a great muse.” Leaning forward, Bumi continues, “My mom said he made it for you to have something to remember them by. For you to know how they felt, at least back then.” Hesitantly, he asks, “What does it make you feel?”

Lin ventures another glance at the drawing. Her parents, young and alive. Unconcerned and in love. The grief she’d felt earlier doesn’t feel as all encompassing.

The wind blows by. With it, comes peace.

 _“Seen.”_ Lin says. She smiles.

* * *

>   
> _Art and love are the same thing:_ _  
> __It’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you._

**-Chuck Klosterman.**

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to draw the art described... let me know lol. I can't draw at ALL, but I would absolutely die of happiness if someone decided to draw the art that Sokka depicts! I hope you enjoyed this work.


End file.
